Musings on Mortality
by Shipwright's Trick
Summary: Aragorn thinks about death: what it means to him, what it means to elves, and what comes after.


A/N: I don't know how a little newbie author like me dares to write a birthdayfic for the great shirebound, but for what it's worth, here's mine. Happy Birthday, shirebound! May your plotbunnies never multiply in vain!

My- or, well, _Aragorn's_ views on death were greatly influenced by Kara's Aunty in her story "Outtakes of a Fellowship and Beyond," Chapter 5, which is titled, "A Little Ray of Sunshine."

I own nothing, I'm not making a profit, yada-yada-yada, and here you go! : )

- ~ -

Many were the times that I, as a young child, wished to be an elf, to move with the grace of my older brothers, father, instructors, and everyone else around me, save my mother. To be able to run longer, and faster, and more easily; to have the sweetest of voices, the keenest of senses- the longest of lives.

It hurt me that I could not be like my adopted family, that they would always be better than I was in nearly everything. But now I see I am the lucky one.

Not only do I have my friends and family, but I have goals in life: to make Gondor and Arnor the finest they can be, and to be a good king. Whereas before I was the only man in a household of elves, now our positions have been reversed. I am the ruler of a large kingdom, comprised of humans- and the elves are fading, and diminishing, and passing into the West- more do so with every day. Even those who remain do so with the understanding that, in due time, they, too, will sail to Valinor. The Age of Men has begun.

Valinor, I know, is a place of rest, a place death touches not. It is holy and sacred, and the elves hold it and its inhabitants in great esteem. To live in Middle-Earth for hundreds or thousands of years, watching the world fade around you- for humans and plants wither and die, and even the hills and mountains split and crumble away- and then to sail into the West, and be surrounded by deathlessness! It must be wonderful to an elf. It certainly seemed so to me as a young child, living among the elves. Part of me still finds Valinor and its unfading quality appealing, for, although I have not the eternal lives of the elves, I have lived much longer than the men without the blood of Númenor in their veins, or the hobbits. I have lost Faramir, Éowyn, Éomer, Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo…and many others whom I have loved.

But I have matured since the days of my youth, and now I see that humans have something to be envied, as well.

We have the gift of death.

To some this does not seem like a gift, but rather a curse. There are people who would cling to life with as much force, conviction, and determination as they can muster, until they are ripped from it painfully and without mercy. They are afraid of death and what it brings. Sometimes I am, as well; afraid to be separated from my loved ones who still remain, and afraid of what I do not know. But I do know that death will release me from the circles of this world, and bring rest, and peace. Then, when the world has ended and the last battle has been fought, we will take part in the Second Theme of the Ainur. I do not know how I could ask for more.

Though I have not wearied of my life as of yet, I feel it better to depart from the circles of this world while at least decently hale and hearty, and with my wits and dignity still about me. I would not become a burden to my family, as I eventually must in my continuing old age. I would not make the mistake of the last kings of Númenor, my fallen ancestors; life is to be coveted and welcomed, to be sure, but death is, as well.

So when I flee the borders of this world, I know that I will be greeted by those who have passed before me: Faramir, the hobbits, Éomer and Éowyn…and I will be able to meet Ilúvatar with dignity and a glad heart, knowing that I go to find rest, peace, and joy, and that my separation from my family and friends is only temporary. We will meet again, even though some of my loved ones are elves. Though no one knows what will become of the elves after the last battle, I cannot find it in my heart to believe that Ilúvatar would sunder the friends that span both races, not to mention the families. Yes, we will meet again. It is only a matter of time. But until then…


End file.
